The written word,
So beautiful, and so unkind.
Brought to me by simple books at a tender age.
Writing was inevitable.
I learned to read to get away,
I learned to write to explain away.
I can tell my pain, and joy, on simple paper.
Simple and yet so strong.
The written word holds mystery.
I never know what I'm going to write next.
I let the words take me where they want to go,
And I take joy in the tale told.
Poetry is beautiful,
It sings to the heart.
Words bring out joy, and sorrow, and can make one cry.
Why not write?
A joy so strong,
A simple Poem,
To explain why I love it so.
A poem isn't rhyme and rhythm.
It's joy, and words.
To wash away the pain.
To forget the sorrow.